Whispers
by Kirby's Cowgirl
Summary: Kirby makes himself miserable when he does what he perceives to be the "right thing".


Copyright 12/13 Kirby's Cowgirl

This is fan fic and not for profit, no copyright infringement intended

Whispers

"Caje, I'm sorry." Kirby said again. "I really am. How many times -"

Caje just gave him a disgusted look, and walked off.

Kirby looked like he was going to start crying, and started industriously rubbing down Bertha's stock.

"I want my sucker!" Bledsoe wailed at Doc.

Saunders looked at the private in shock. When Hanley had given him the replacement, he had said that this was the 3rd squad he'd been assigned to, and he'd figured him for a troublemaker, even though there were no records of the fact. Everyone in the original squad he'd been assigned to was dead. Everyone except him.

"I WANT MY SUCKER!" Bledsoe's face had turned red, and he looked like he was going to pitch a screaming fit.

"Hey!" Littlejohn said, kneeling down. "I'm sorry I don't have a sucker, but maybe we can get you one when we get back to camp. How about some peppermints?" he dangled a bag in front of the kid. "I really like these, don't you?" he shook out a couple in his hand and offered them to Bledsoe.

"_He was a kid in a man's body."_ Saunders realized. That was what had been _off_ about him from the start. And whoever had kept transferring him around, was going to get a swift punch in the jaw. The kid did not belong in the army. Well, hell, maybe they could put him in the kitchen…

McCall wordlessly unloaded Bledsoe's weapon, popped an empty clip in it, and set it back down where the kid had dropped it after he'd ripped his thumb nail off re-loading. Saunders gave him a silent nod of approval. Bledsoe may have gotten everyone in his original squad killed. He _was not_ getting Saunders men killed. Saunders had thought he was nervous and just practicing reloading while they stopped for a short break as he checked his map. It was a good thing there were no Germans in the vicinity.

Bledsoe had a mouth full of peppermints and Littlejohn was playing some silly kid's game with him. Doc was hurriedly stuffing his supplies back in his rucksack. He'd thought he had enough to worry about with Caje furious at Kirby over god knows what, and setting a pace fast enough to kill them.

"Bledsoe, I'm giving you a very important job." Saunders said. "I want you to protect Doc."

Doc shot Saunders a look of "why me?'" but Bledsoe perked right up.

"Really?" he sounded like he was five years old.

"Really." Saunders said. "Caje, take the point. We're heading back."

Caje looked over his shoulder at Saunders, not sure he'd heard correctly. They hadn't finished their patrol. The Sarge _never _bailed on an assignment. "Back to camp, Caje." Saunders repeated. Hanley could just raise hell with him. He was not risking his men's lives with this kid out on a patrol with them. He _supposed_ he could just send the kid back with Doc, but he wasn't going to.

"No talking." Saunders said. He pointed at Danvers, their other replacement, and he fell in line behind Caje, Saunders followed him, then Doc and Bledsoe, Littlejohn, McCall, and Kirby brought up the rear. Caje wouldn't even look at him when he passed him, and Saunders figured he'd have to do something about _that_ when they got back to camp. He was not having his men act like toddlers.

They'd been walking for maybe twenty minutes when McCall's hiss of "Littlejohn!" had the big private stopping as McCall jogged up to him. Something was wrong. He scanned the woods behind them.

"We lost Kirby." McCall said quietly. "I'll tell the Sarge."

Saunders looked over his shoulder and saw McCall having a word with Littlejohn, and when McCall saw him looking, he pointed behind them. Saunders jogged back to the two privates, motioning Bledsoe to stay with Doc. "I said no talking. What's the hold up?"

"We lost Kirby." McCall looked worried. "I stopped and waited on him and he's not there."

"Shit." Saunders said under his breath. Caje was so far ahead there was no calling him back. Danvers was a scared kid, he'd never hold up under fire. Bledsoe was more of a liability than anything. "Bledsoe, you and Danvers stay here with Doc. If you hear gunfire, or we don't come back in fifteen minutes, you high tail it for camp. Understood?"

"Yes sir." Bledsoe stammered, and Saunders didn't bother to correct him as he followed McCall and Littlejohn back down the trail.

McCall stopped so suddenly that Littlejohn nearly ran into him, and Saunders heard a muttered expletive, and then the two of them were running. He couldn't see past Littlejohn's bulk to see what had happened to Kirby, but the way the two of them were moving he figured he was badly hurt or dead.

Kirby was hanging upside down, about eight feet off the ground, caught in what looked like an animal snare. His web belt and suspenders with the BAR had twisted up under his neck and his face was purple. He hadn't been able to call out for help, and trapped the way he was, he couldn't reach his own knife. Saunders thought he was dead. McCall was up on Littlejohn's shoulders before he could say a word, and he helped them ease Kirby to the ground after McCall cut him loose. They peeled his web belt and gun off him, and listened to him gasp for breath. He had involuntary tears streaming down his face.

Littlejohn pulled the snare off his foot, and they all winced at the soft moan that Kirby made. The rope had cut all the way thru his boot, and blood was oozing out.

"I'll carry you." Littlejohn said to Kirby. To McCall, "Get him up on my back." They got Kirby hoisted up on the giants' back, McCall put on the heavy BAR harness, and they all jogged back down the trail.

"How bad?" Doc asked, running to meet them. He helped Littlejohn ease Kirby to the ground.

Kirby whimpered, put a shaking hand to his throat, looked at Doc. "Ok. Just let me look." Doc said gently, peeling back his shirt, and looking in horror at the already purpling bloody mass around Kirby's neck. He sprinkled sulfa on the wound, and bandaged it. Quickly examined Kirby's foot. "It's broken. If I take your boot off it'll make it worse. I can't give you any morphine, I'm sorry."

Kirby nodded, seemed to grit his teeth, and then tears started flowing.

"You'll be ok." Doc said. "We're not that far out and the Docs will get you fixed up in no time." He waited until they had Kirby on Littlejohn's back before he shot Saunders a worried look that told him that Kirby was in real trouble.

Caje came jogging up, and his face went completely white when he saw Kirby. His buddy had his eyes closed, and he was just collapsed on Littlejohn's back. "What -"

"We got to get to the hospital." Saunders interrupted him. "The pace you've been setting, we should be there in an hour. Let's move."

Caje took one last long look at Kirby before he took the point again.

"Bledsoe, you and Danvers grab yourselves something to eat and get a shower." Saunders told them upon arriving at camp.

"You told me to watch Doc." Bledsoe protested, as Doc headed off to the hospital with Littlejohn, Kirby, and McCall.

"You can't go into the hospital." Saunders said, hoping the kid wouldn't argue with him.

"I'm starvin' " Danvers tugged on Bledsoe's arm. "Come on!"

"You're back early." Hanley said as Saunders entered his tent.

"Bledsoe." Saunders lit a cigarette, ran a hand thru his hair.

"Well we figured him for a troublemaker." Hanley shrugged. "I was going to give him to Sergeant Hall, but you got back first -"

"He's a kid." Saunders interrupted. "He's a five year old in a man's body. I thought he was gonna pitch a screamin' fit because Doc didn't have a sucker to give him when he got hurt. If Littlejohn hadn't had some candy, and played a game with him, I would have had to knock him out. Put him in the kitchen. Put him _somewhere_. But he can not go out in the field again."

Hanley lit his own cigarette, took a frustrated drag. "Alright, I'll take care of it. Danvers?"

"Corpseman. Truck driver maybe. Kid can't handle a weapon. "

"Anything else?"

"Kirby's hurt."

"Bledsoe's fault?"

"Naw, he had nothing to do with it." Saunders crushed out his smoke, and sighed. "It's bad. I think his larynx is crushed."

"Let's go check on him.

"You CAN NOT come in here!" the nurse said, as Doc, McCall, and Littlejohn struggled thru the door with Kirby.

"Ma'am?" Doc asked, confused. The woman was sick, that was evident.

"Quarantine." She said. "Where's the damn sign?" and then she just collapsed and would have hit the floor if McCall hadn't caught her.

"Shit." Doc said, only then noticing the red sign in the floor. He picked it up "QUARANTINE FLU & PNEUMONIA" it read.

"You can't go back out." The nurse gasped. "Tell that damn Hanley to get me some help. Told him yesterday. What the hell is wrong with him?"

Doc took the piece of paper and the roll of surgical tape she had in her hand. He taped the QUARANTINE sign back up on the door, then looked at the paper. It read, "Hanley, get off your ass and get us some help. There are people dying in here. We need drugs and medical personnel."

"Ma'am, where can I find a Doctor?"

"Doctor Bryant has a high fever and is out of his head. Everybody in here is sick."

Doc hesitated, then taped the paper to the door. "We'll do all we can to help, but we need to get Kirby -"

"Bring him in the nurse's section." She pointed to a small curtained off area.

"What?" McCall asked.

"I have to have some help. If you get him on one of those rolling tables, he can scoot around on it. We don't even have any empty stretchers." She looked at Kirby. "I can't set your foot, private, I'm not strong enough."

"I can do it." Doc said, "Littlejohn can help me. I just thought it would be better to do it at the hospital."

"What happened to him?" she asked Doc.

"Got caught in a snare."

She shook her head. "Third one this week."

"Littlejohn, I'll find a table." Doc said.

"A chair too, if there is one?" McCall called after him.

Doc came back with a rolling table and he locked the wheels and helped Littlejohn sit Kirby down on it, before going after a chair too.

"Let me see his throat." The nurse said, once McCall had sat her in the chair. Kirby eyed the nurse warily as she peeled the bandage back." Can you breathe thru your mouth alright?" She waited until he nodded. "Can you swallow?"

He nodded, made a face.

"Is it hard to swallow, or does it just hurt?" she pulled a pad and pencil from her pocket, and Kirby wrote, "Just hurts."

"Okay, I don't think your larynx is crushed. Just badly bruised. You still can't have any morphine." She looked at Doc.

"We'll handle it, ma'am. You need to go to bed. I'll get some fluids started -"

"You set his foot first, before it swells anymore."

Kirby pointed at the curtain, scribbled, "Ladies first." And showed it to the nurse.

"Young man, if he doesn't set that foot now, it may be too late. And I'm figuring you're going to pass out."

Kirby gave her a hurt look, and she tried to laugh, but it just came out as a hacking cough. "Get him some tongue depressors to bite on." She said to Doc. Looked back at Kirby. "Try not to scream. You don't need to damage your throat anymore."

McCall and Littlejohn went back into the ward, and a few seconds later, Littlejohn came back. He was white as a sheet. "Ah, Doc, where are the fluids? I'll help you, but I don't know what to get."

"You stay in that chair." Doc said to the nurse. Littlejohn, standing behind her, was motioning frantically.

"The fluids should be in the supply cabinet." Doc said as he walked past Littlejohn into the ward.

McCall was standing by a bed, and he mouthed, "He's DEAD." at Doc, and looked totally stricken.

Doc checked the man to be sure, and McCall started babbling. "He's not a soldier. He's a non com. He's not supposed to die -"

"McCall, knock it off." Doc looked around the ward in dismay. Every bed was full. There were no staff on the floor at all, which meant there was no one, or they were too sick to help.

"Doc." Littlejohn said quietly, and pointed at the almost empty supply cabinet.

"SHIT." Doc said. He was going to help the nurse kill Hanley. Then he took a deep breath. It wasn't the Lieutenant's fault. "We'll just have to do the best we can."

_Three bottles of fluids_. That's all the cabinet held. Doc looked at the half full bottle that was still running into the dead Dr. Bryant, and cut it off.

"The nurse needs a bottle, Kirby needs one, and we'll just go from there." He sighed, grabbed an armful of supplies. "McCall, just cover him up for now. See if you can find some clean linens and get a basin of water and sponge some of these guys down."

"Ok, Doc, I can do that." McCall said, looking sheepish. "I'm sorry."

"Shit." Saunders said under his breath when he saw the QUARANTINE sign on the door. "Where did they take Kirby? He needed some help."

"Oh god." Hanley said, and went completely white. They saw Doc walking up to the inside door, and when he saw them, he motioned them away. They backed off while he taped something else to the door, and he threw up a hand at them as he went back inside the hospital.

"Dr. Bryant is dead. We have NO supplies at all. I will do the best I can." The paper that Doc had taped to the door read.

Saunders bit back a groan. Doc must have unknowingly taken Kirby straight into the hospital. He needed to find McCall and Littlejohn.

"The medical convoy that was on its way here got cut off." Hanley took off running for the radio, and Saunders went with him. They saw Sergeant Hall's squad returning from patrol as they headed for Hanley's CP. "Round up your men and I'll send you out with Hall."

Saunders entered the cook tent and saw Caje sitting with a cup of untouched coffee in front of him. "I acted like an idiot, Sarge." The Cajun said, when Saunders dropped into the chair across from him.

"It's not your fault Kirby got hurt."

"I _know_ that." Caje seemed to grit his teeth. "But he could die, and he thinks I'm still mad at him. And it matters, Sarge, it really does."

"Drink your coffee. We're going back out with Sergeant Hall's squad."

Caje pushed it across the table to him. "I don't want it. I don't know why I even -"

"Littlejohn and McCall hit the showers, I guess?"

"They went in the hospital with Doc."

"They went in the hospital?" the look on Saunders face told Caje something was wrong.

"Grady, we've got to go back out." Sergeant Hall said to the private, who was peeling out of his dirty clothes.

"I am getting a shower. And then I am going to bed for sixteen hours." Grady declared. "Throw me in the damn brig, I don't care -"

" The nurses are sick. " Hall cut him off, used to the private's griping and not intending to let him go on until he ran out of steam. "We've got to escort some medical personnel here."

"The _nurses _are sick! Hell, why didn't you say so?" Grady threw his dirty shirt in the floor, whipped a clean one on, and started buttoning it. "I need some ammo. Dawkins, get your damn boots back on -"

"Grady, shut up." Hall said, not bothering to hide his grin. "Dawkins, go ahead and change your socks. I think Saunders squad is going with us. You think you and Kirby can keep from fighting over who's the best BAR man?"

"Kirby knows I'm better than he is." Grady said, shooting Hall a worried look. "The nurses?"

"Grady, you know your girl's not in there."

"Should we leave Ben here?"

"The line got pushed back yesterday. We lost a lot of ground. It ain't gonna be easy. I'm not goin' thru that without a medic."

Grady nodded, finished buttoning his shirt, and grabbed up his gear. They met Saunders and Caje coming out of the cook tent. "Looks like it's just us, Hall." Saunders said.

"Where's that goldbrick, Kirby?" Grady demanded.

"He's hurt." Caje said thru clenched teeth. "He got caught in a snare."

"Damn." Grady said, going completely white. "How bad is he?"

"Grady, shut up." Hall ordered, and gave him a look that let him know he meant business.

As the rest of the men filed in line, Saunders looked at Hall. "Let's hear it."

"You don't want to." Hall said, reaching to take the ammo that Dawkins had brought for him and Saunders.

Saunders just gave him a steady look, and he sighed. "Brick's dead. He was the first one to get caught in a snare. They sent him out with a bunch of replacements, and time they noticed he was missing, he'd choked to death. The other one was a green kid, he panicked and ran. He's messed up pretty bad."

"Grady?" Saunders asked, looking at his friend at the end of the line. Brick had been third squad's BAR man and was well liked by everyone.

"Took it hard. You know the BAR men think they're a breed apart." Hall sighed. "I hope to hell Kirby makes it. If anything happens to him or any of those nurses I'm not so sure I can hold Grady together."

"Lieutenant Trent, you're getting an iv started before I set Kirby's foot." Doc said.

"There are men out there who are sicker than I am." she tried to wave him off.

"There are men out there who will kill me when all this is over if you ladies didn't get treated first." Doc said firmly. "Please don't fight me on this ma'am."

"Thank you, private. Are they finally getting us some help?"

"Yes ma'am." Doc said, wondering if he was lying to her. Well, he knew Hanley and Saunders had read the notes on the door. He didn't know whether Hanley was in a position to do anything about it or not. He and Littlejohn helped her up, and she leaned heavily on Doc as he walked her inside the nurse's section. There were two other nurses in beds, who both looked to be semi-conscious.

"Help?" one of them croaked at the Lieutenant.

"Yes, we got some help. Try and go back to sleep." The Lieutenant actually smiled at her.

Doc got her settled in the bed, and an iv started. Then he changed the other nurse's empty fluid bottles. He'd give the half bottle to Kirby, he was still scared he was going to go into shock. "Can I do anything else for you, ma'am?"

"Go take care of your little private. Are you sure you can set his foot?"

"Yes ma'am." Doc said. "I've done it before."

McCall was waiting with Kirby when Doc came thru the curtain. "Littlejohn said he was too much bigger than you, that I would have to help?"

"He's right." Doc said, sighing. He was so damn tired. How were they going to get thru this?

"Ok, Kirby." He took the tongue depressors that somebody had already taped together and stuck them between Kirby's teeth. "Bite thru these if you need to, but try not to scream. And I'm sorry." He carefully unlaced Kirby's boot and pulled it off, eased the sock off, and looked in dismay at the angry deep cut.

"Littlejohn brought some warm water. He said to ask you about putting salt in it?"

Kirby looked horrified, and Doc just looked even more exhausted.

"Yeah, that's a good idea." He dumped the small container of salt in the water and stirred it with his hand, used a towel to gently wash the wound. Beads of sweat were popping out on Kirby's face, but he held still. McCall had a hand on his leg in case he decided to jerk away.

"Ok." Doc said after he had blotted the wound dry and packed it with sulfa. "Kirby, I can't put a cast over this. It will just get infected. I've got to figure out some way to stabilize your foot after I get it set."

"Couldn't you wrap it and maybe lace it up in a bigger boot if we can find one?" McCall asked.

"I've got to splint it -"

"Here, Doc." Littlejohn came back with what looked like two pieces of broken pallet. "They're pretty rough, but maybe you can wrap them in a bandage or something so they don't cut him up. I think they're about the right size."

"Thanks, Littlejohn." Doc said with genuine relief.

Littlejohn just nodded before he went back into the ward.

"Okay, Kirby. Here goes." Doc said, waiting until McCall was in position. There was an audible snap, and Kirby passed out. "McCall –" Doc started, and glanced up to see that the soldier had already tipped Kirby's head so it was pointed at the floor and stuck his finger in the corner of his mouth to open it. "Didn't know you had horses."

"Huh?" McCall asked, keeping a close watch on Kirby in case he started vomiting.

"How'd you know how to open his mouth?"

"I don't know." McCall looked perplexed, then shrugged. "Don't guess it matters."

"Kirby try and get them to drink some of this tea." Doc said, looking in dismay at the nurses. Lieutenant Trent was aware of her surroundings, but unable to do anything. Her eyes always followed him when he came to check on them. Sergeant Rogers was out of her head. And Sergeant Debbie Miller - Doc sighed.

Kirby scribbled something, held up his pad. "Where's my pack?"

"Somebody picked it up, I don't have time to look for it right now. Your pictures are safe." Doc said, figuring that's what he wanted. He turned to go back into the other ward, and a grip of steel closed around his leg.

Kirby shook his head at him, scribbled frantically, and held up the pad again. "The ladies can have my sugar. This tea is _awful!"_

"Ok, Kirby, I'll see if I can find it." Doc said, laughing.

A few minutes later, McCall stuck his head in the curtain and handed in the pack. "Here you go, Kirby. You ok?"

Kirby nodded, pointed at McCall. The man looked like hell. He hadn't seen anybody but Doc in, he didn't know how long they'd been in here. It seemed like a week. "I'm ok. Can I get you anything else?"

Kirby shook his head.

"You should brush the ladies hair. It'll make them feel better."

Kirby looked at him like he was nuts, and Debbie started laughing, or trying to laugh, it was more between a cough and a snort. He had thought she was asleep.

"Sorry, ma'am." McCall said apologetically. "I really liked to brush my wife's hair."

Debbie struggled to sit up and Kirby helped her, swearing to himself he was going to kill McCall when this was all over. McCall looked sheepish, picked up the brush Debbie pointed out, and started gently brushing out the tangles. Kirby scooted over so McCall could sit on the table with him, and watched in amazement as some color slowly came back into Debbie's face. McCall was telling her some crazy story about him getting in trouble for dancing with an officer's wife, that Kirby had no idea if it was true or not.

Debbie drifted off back to sleep with a smile on her face, and McCall got up carefully so he wouldn't wake her. He picked up Kirby's pad and wrote, "Be kind to this woman." And gave Kirby a look that he couldn't mistake.

Kirby very nearly groaned out loud. He had feared that she was dying, but McCall had just confirmed it. "I'll send Doc back." McCall whispered, looking like he was going to cry himself.

"Shit." Hall said. "That's suicide. What the hell -" he let his voice trail off, passed the field glasses to Saunders. As he did, his left hand automatically went to his breast pocket.

Saunders sighed. The man was as bad as Kirby about his pictures. The last time he had seen Hall scared was when they were buck privates hitting the beach in Africa. Hall didn't get scared. He was the most competent soldier Saunders had ever known. But what he saw thru the glasses made him want to lay his head down on the ground and cry. The convoy was flanked by two German halftracks. The fact that they weren't firing told him they probably needed the medical supplies as badly as the Allies did. He could see no way they could get down there and mount any kind of attack without losing every man they had. They _had _to have those supplies. He scrubbed a hand across his eyes, put the glasses back, and decided he was seeing things. Blinked twice, decided he wasn't, and yelled, "TAKE COVER!"

Hall snatched his bayonet out, started trying to dig in, Saunders just shoved a hand in his back and knocked him flat, hoping his men had enough sense to listen. The explosion was loud. The second one, right behind it, he thought his ears were bleeding. He gestured to Hall and they took off running, with the men spread out behind them.

The two Allied tanks that had wiped out the halftracks were rolling down the hill, it looked like half a company of infantry with them. It appeared the fighting was over. Saunders wondered if they were going to have to fight their own side over medical supplies.

"Who's in charge here?" a Lieutenant asked, as he approached Saunders and Hall. The men had made short work out of checking out the exploded halftracks, and most of them had headed over to the convoy.

"I am sir." Hall said, shooting a glance at Saunders. Saunders had already noticed the same thing Hall had, and hoped the Lieutenant hadn't. Grady had picked one of the nurses up and kissed her. There would be hell to pay over that.

The Lieutenant just shook his head. "General Taggart is not happy. He wanted this convoy at the hospital yesterday. We need to get a move on."

"Yes sir." Hall said, gesturing to Dawkins, who reached over and smacked Grady. Grady put the nurse down and she leaned over and kissed Dawkins on the cheek. All the nurses were kissing any GI in sight.

Saunders put out a hand to stop the pretty brunette who was headed his way. "Thank you, ma'am, but not NOW. You need to get back in the trucks and we need to get out of here."

She grinned at him, and didn't seem to take offense. " Later then, cowboy! Back in the trucks, girls! We're rolling out of here!"

"I'm cold." Debbie scribbled, looked at Kirby. Her voice was gone, and he didn't like the way her eyes looked.

"Try and drink some of this tea." He wrote.

She made a face, and he scrounged in his pack and found the sugar, dumped some in, and stirred it. He saw his pictures when he sat the sugar back down, and absently tucked them in his shirt pocket.

"Your sweetheart?" Debbie wrote.

He shook his head.

"You have some of _those_ pictures." As sick as she was, she was trying to tease _him_ and make _him_ feel better.

"I'll show you if you drink this tea." He scribbled back.

She nodded, and he propped her up and held the cup for her while she sipped. When she'd finished half of it, she shook her head at him, and he sat the cup down, and reached for the photos. She smiled and shook her head at him again.

He handed her the picture of Alex and Beth. Beth, the little minx, had known that having any picture of Alex, if someone figured out who she was, could get him shot. But there were no Army regulations against him having a picture of his sweetheart standing with her CO.

"She's very pretty."

Kirby smiled and nodded, then figured what the hell, and handed her Alex and Candace's picture. He pointed at Candace, wrote, "This is my buddies wife. I don't know how I wound up with her picture." He didn't think she would look closely enough to recognize that Alex was in _both_ photos, and Candace was so stunningly beautiful that most people wouldn't even notice there was another woman in the picture. Hell, back before the War, he wouldn't have noticed Alex. _Before the War_, he'd missed a lot of things.

Kirby had never realized all the things the nurses did that he just took for granted. He was never done, it seemed like he was always behind in everything he tried to do. If he'd been able to walk - he sighed. He only had three poor sick ladies to try and look after. Doc was trying to at least monitor everybody in the hospital. He doubted that Littlejohn and McCall had had a wink of sleep since all this started.

"Cold." Debbie mouthed at him. She was shaking, but she was burning up with fever. Doc had tucked more blankets over her the last time he was in. Kirby tucked her in tighter.

"Scared." She actually said the word.

Kirby didn't know who was more scared, him or her. He'd seen too many men die out in the field, but this was just - _wrong._ The poor woman had come to help, and she was going to die _like this?_

He slid into the bed with her, and tucked her into his arms. If he could have talked to her, he would have told her some nonsense story like McCall had. To make her laugh. Hell he could have told her about the night he met Alex. Nobody should have to die alone. All the brass could do was court martial him again. If he got shot for holding a frightened, dying woman, so be it.

"Come on kid." Somebody said to him gently, trying to untangle him from Debbie.

"Don't you dare hurt that boy!" that was Lieutenant Trent's scratchy voice.

Kirby tried to wake up, felt like he was in a fog. "It's ok." He heard another female voice say. "We're here to help." She patted him gently. 'You did a _good_ job. Just go back to sleep sweetie."

"He's hurt." Lieutenant Trent's voice again. "That boy has been wonderful. Don't you let anything happen to him." Kirby wondered who she was talking to.

"Just calm down, Trent." A man's voice. _A Doctor must have gotten there._

He needed to tell the Doctor, what? What did he need to say? He was pretty sure Debbie was dead. Nothing he had done had helped. He was so tired. His throat hurt, his foot throbbed.

Two orderlies picked him up and carefully carried him to a bed. One of the nurses took his temperature, wrote something on a chart, and brushed her hand across his cheek before she went on to other patients. And in spite of himself, Kirby drifted off into an exhausted sleep.

"Come on, buddy, you need to sit down." A man he didn't know caught him by the arm.

"I've got patients." McCall said, jerking loose.

The two orderlies looked at each other, shrugged, and both of them caught an arm. McCall, furious at being stopped, wrenched free.

"Private!" the nurse's voice stopped him, and he looked at her stupidly. "I need you to sit down, PLEASE!"

"Yes ma'am." McCall said, suddenly wondering how he was even standing up. The two orderlies caught hold of him again, and he let them ease him to the floor.

"Open your mouth." The nurse told him, bending down with a thermometer.

"I'm not sick." He tried to wave her off.

"Humor me." She put her hand on his cheek and he opened his mouth. That was the last thing he remembered for a long, long time.

The orderlies covered him up, and the nurse shook her head. "Just leave him there until we find some place to put him."

"I can't stop." Doc said, looking at the Doctor like he was an idiot. "These people are dying. We don't have any medicine. I'm supposed to help them, and -"

"I would say you've done an excellent job." The Doctor caught him by the arm. "They've made you and your big friend here some pallets in the foyer. I'm sorry we don't have a bed to put you in. Right now, I just need you to rest. Later, we're going to have a talk." It was polite, but firm, and not threatening, and Doc let himself be herded off to bed.

"We have help?" Littlejohn asked, looking around, not really seeing all the medical personnel who were bustling everywhere.

"You have help, sweetie." One of the nurses said to him. "Please go and lie down for a little while. I'm sorry you can't leave the hospital, but you have to stay until the quarantine is lifted, ok?"

"Yes ma'am." Littlejohn said, dutifully following her to the front entrance where some orderlies were already tucking Doc into bed.

"Where's McCall?" he asked, looking around.

"He's fine. He's already asleep." The nurse said, pointing to the pallet, and Littlejohn sat down and let her take off his boots.

"Kathy, will you, will you - " Grady stumbled over the words, wondering why he never could talk to her without making a fool of himself.

"Yes, Grady, I will marry you." she said, putting down her pen and grinning at him.

_Marry him? _He'd been trying to ask her to dinner. But then, he thought, he _did_ want to marry her. Brick was dead. And Brick had been as crazy nuts over his nurse as Grady was over Kathy. "Can I kiss you?" he asked hopefully.

"Not while I'm on duty."

"Oh." He was _really_ disappointed.

She looked to see who was in the area, leaned over and kissed _him. _

"But I can kiss you."

"Whooeee!" one of the orderlies said as he walked by.

"I'm going to make an honest man out of him." Kathy said, eyes twinkling.

"Well I would say you've more than got your work cut out for you." The guy winked at Grady and offered him his hand.

Kathy put a thermometer in Kirby's mouth, and checked the dressing on his neck. "You and Caje go out and have a drink or something." She told Grady. "Kirby needs to rest. I get off at six, I'll get Lisa to go to dinner with us."

Caje started to shake his head, but Kirby leaned over and caught his wrist, hunted for his pad and pencil. "Go have some fun, Caje. I'm alright, really." He scribbled.

"You can come back before six." Kathy said, "But he _needs_ a nap. And he doesn't want an audience when I change these dressings."

Kirby visibly flinched, looked at Caje and nodded.

"Can I tell?" Grady asked Kathy, grinning.

"Of course dear." She grinned back at him.

"We're getting married." Grady grinned, pleased as punch, and Caje reached over and socked him in the arm and grinned back at him. But Kirby just looked like he was going to cry. He scribbled, "That's great!" on his pad and held it up for Grady, but his eyes said something completely different.

"Out, you two!" Kathy ordered, grinning at them as they left. Then she turned to Kirby. "You want some pain medicine? It's a little early, but you can have some?"

He shook his head, wincing as she gently pulled his bandage off.

"Kirby, your voice will come back." she told him as she started cleaning the wound. "That's what's wrong isn't it? "

He looked embarrassed, and slowly nodded.

"You don't need your voice to talk. You have the most expressive eyes and face of anybody I've ever met."

"Kirby helped too, sir." McCall said, nodding toward Kirby in his bed.

Kirby shot McCall a frantic look, but General Taggart had already turned toward him. He struggled to sit up and salute.

"That's not necessary, son." The General offered him his hand. "You always do come thru when things get rough." Then he leaned down. "Bill was killed on Omaha Beach. Now I'm not telling you to go do something stupid, but I imagine you'll get a little bit of leave when you get out of here. Alex would be very glad to see you." He pressed a piece of paper in Kirby's hand.

"Everything's ready, General Taggart." Nurse Kathy Stafford looked up from her chart.

"We'll save some food for you." He smiled at her and entered the small curtained off area.

"Are we in trouble?" McCall looked uneasily at Doc. A Lieutenant he didn't know had told the three of them to wait in the foyer. General Taggart had shaken their hands and thanked them, and he'd thought that was that. He wanted a long shower. He wanted to go back to bed.

"You're welcome to have tea with the nurses and General Taggart." A Sergeant said as he wheeled in a cart full of food. "But I thought you might like something more substantial." He gestured for them to sit.

"That's for _us?" _ Littlejohn asked, looking at the huge sandwiches piled full of meat. He took the plate he was handed, then looked sheepish. "What about Kirby?"

McCall, fixing to dive into his sandwich, put it down.

"Oh, I've got plenty of soft food for your friend. Fresh chicken soup and some pudding. I hear we have a line on some ice cream for tomorrow. I'll take care of him, don't you worry."

Littlejohn shot a questioning look at Doc, and he nodded, and they all slowly started eating.

Kirby looked at the folded piece of paper in his hand, choked back a sob, then tore it to bits and dropped it in the ashtray. He held his cigarette to it until it started burning. He felt like he was on fire instead of the paper. Alex was money and privilege and class. He was nothing but a Chicago street punk, who'd never had more than two hundred dollars to his name. He couldn't even ride a horse. Alex needed a rancher, or a cowboy. Somebody from _her_ world. He couldn't live on a ranch, she couldn't live in town.

Back _before the War_ if he'd thought he'd have had the opportunity to marry a rich woman and he a _kept man,_ he'd have jumped on it. He couldn't abandon poor Ruthie and his Mom, and now he had Mrs. Kolpecheck to look after too, since Eddie's Dad had died. George appeared to be on the road to becoming a worse hell raiser than he had ever been. There was no way he would saddle Alex with all of that.

Then, because he hurt so damn bad, he went out and got blind stinkin' drunk, started a fight, and narrowly missed getting picked up by the MP's. When he came to, he was lying in a ditch, covered in vomit, his throat was raw and his voice was gone again.

He should have at least looked to see where she was. He could have sent Littlejohn to check on her. The giant was oblivious to any woman other than his fiancé. Since he was a farmer, he spoke Alex's lingo. That way, Kirby would have known that she was alright. He was a damn fool.


End file.
